Critic Spies
by TheStrangeFreakyMentalWriter
Summary: What do you get when Susan get's a text from FanFic to see a Video she and a fellow webber made? Well, I took a guess as to how that could happen. Adding also the aftermath of a untimely fate. Read and Review.
1. Critic VS Critic Chap 1 of 2

I didn't know what this text I got from my cousin. Only knowing, that for a fact, I had to see this video that she made. I'll humor her.

She had better not have killed herself again for a bad fic. Or I swear, I'll kill her once I get my hands on her.

Turning on the computer and letter it warm up, gave me enough time to fetch a cup of tea. Taking a seat before my computer. Letting a fine sun and a chime of Big Ben signing of the hour.

"All right, let's see the damage."

Going to _Google_ and tying in what the text that was within my cell. Thinking over and over what kind of things she must have done.

Once _Critic Vs Critic _was written. Hell's gates open wide.

Clicking the first thing, from _YouTube USA_.

I see FanFic Critic. Giving a very creepy smile.

"This can't be good."

Pressing play.

The theme song acted to every point of the opening is.

And there is FanFic Critic, but she wasn't wearing her normal apparels.

_FanFic: Hello, everyone I am the FanFic Critic. I read it . . . _

Out of nowhere a bomb went off. Letting the screen go black. The swarm of black and white ants now on the screen.

"What the . . . "

The ants now gone. Gray color took up computer face before me and then . . .

"Is that the . . . "

_Nostalgia Critic: Forget what that woman has to say. This is the Nostalgia Critic, I remember it, so you don't have to! _

He did a drum roll with his hands. His clothing was also different.

About to add something, when a small bright red packet was dropped gently with the help of a hand-size shoot, before him on the table.

_Nostalgia Critic: Aw, I got a gift. Must be from an adoring fan._

He opens it. There was a nice white plated Rolex, NC pulled out with a note. That he read out loud.

_Nostalgia Critic: Think again?_

All of sudden a boxing glove pop out of the Rolex, hitting right in the face, knocking him onto his back.

Again, the screen changes. Back to FanFic, whose room was destroyed, but she looked fine.

_FanFic Critic: Ha-Ha, Nostalgia. This is my time, not yours!_

In a distance you could hear; _You'll pay for this, FanFic! _In just pure anger.

For a moment, she fixes herself. Straightening her white jack and hat.

_FanFic Critic: Going back to this. This Fanfiction story was a waste of words. So instead . . . _

An arrow was seen shot from the side, seeing it go through her neck. Which that was the way the body went.

Having the screen going back to Nostalgia, looking fine and un-harm. Wearing the damage watch.

_Nostalgia Critic: As what my fiend was going to say. This is a Spy Vs Spy Fanfiction story. But instead of just telling the story and to also put to some unused stage props to . . . good use._

A shout was heard; _For the fans!_

He rolled his eyes, picking up his gun, pointing it to his left.

_Nostalgia Critic: Silence you!_

And shot three times.

His command was granted.

_Nostalgia Critic: That's better. So for the time being of this show. You'll be knowing me as Nostalgia Black. Mostly for this get-up here._

Motioning to himself like he was a stud made by gods.

But then a group of rabid dogs taking him down, having his face squashed against the camera like a sideways fish.

A sign came up with a playground came up on a windy day with elevator music filled up the back ground.

_**Please Stand by As We Take a Short Break**_

FanFic Critic popped out of no where, taking a seat on an unmoving swing set. Giving a cocky smile.

_FanFic Critic: And you, my views, may call me FanFic White._

What in the world am I going to do about these two. Oh, and for those who don't know who I am. This is Susan, who knows one of the whack-jobs who is now calling herself FanFic White, cousin.

As you can, this video can only end in an acid base, eye crossing, mind-fuck. Just going back and forth. Both speaking a few words and then something inhuman happens. I paused it before I do the unthinkable to my new computer.

No way, I am letting this be the end of it. But sooner or later, I have to see how it ends. Or she'll never let me hear the end of it.

I'll just set a doctor on speed dial for when my heart is about to give.

**1:21/48:52**

Oh no! I refuse to see any more of this trash.

Then my cell went off. Not even looking at the ID, answer it.

"Yes?"

"_**You watching the video?"**_

"Yes, I am and have you lost your mind?"

"_**How many episodes have I done?"**_

"Good point." Having my other hand un-pausing the video, letting it play on. "Is this really how the FanFic was written?"

"_**Yes. Yes it was."**_

"You did a _Phineas and Ferb_ too?"

"_**Before. That one was actually the pleasant one."**_

"And you ended up killing yourself over and over in this, I see."

"_**Fair trade of being human."**_

"As to show to what?"

"_**Life can be cruel without knowing how others will feel."**_

"And you thought doing a show called _Critic Vs Critic_ would make yourself feel better?"

I didn't hear a reply. Just her breathing. Having a brow rise to this.

"FanFic . . . "

Then the line went dead. Right when the show was about to end.

"Now I have to see a doctor and go back to America. Wonderful, just wonderful."

Turning back to see the last few minutes. Having Lesbian Jesus and Chester A. Bum be the gray spy or spies. Or whatever at this moment.

Next there was Both FanFic and Nostalgia standing in front of a waste land that has went through war. Smiling at the camera.

_FanFic Critic: So, to end this video on a happy note._

_Nostalgia Critic: We have done a full chapter of a two-chapter story._

_FanFic Critic: Did you say, two chapter story?"_

_Nostalgia Critic: Yes I did. And the reason why, this happen, is because, we are about to tag two new people to do the next chapter._

_FanFic Critic: How will that be done?_

He raised a bowl fill with strips of paper in them. In the end he gave a fully toothy smile, to anyone who didn't him or FanFic, who was also giving the same look, well enough, knew this couldn't be good.

_Nostalgia Critic: FanFic, would you please pull the first name out._

_FanFic Critic: Gladly._

Grabbing one strip as if it was finger food. Only taking a simple glance of the name and blasted; _Nostalgia Chick!_

And then Nostalgia Critic did the next.

I could see him shiver, as if he knew I was glaring at him through the screen.

"Don't you dare . . . "

_Nostalgia Critic: And the lucky person is . . . _

"Don't say it, Don't . . . "

_Nostalgia Critic: Susan!_

Good bye new computer as I flipped it to the side in rage. Having it blow up in the corner of my room, hearing weak sparks and wires landed about onto the floor. I didn't care, and I could clean it up later.

"I'll kill them!"

The End.

_(Well to her it is, but no it's not.)_

Oh, yes it is. I band you from maker another chapter to this, writer.

_(But . . . But . . .)_

Not another word!

_(Fine, this is really the ending, for the fear of having Susan and Chick coming after me.)_

Well?

_(The End!)_


	2. The Plan (Behind the Scenes)

It was the middle of night; a light shower of rain could be heard as it tap and clink against the house. A lone figure waited in her livingroom, relaxing on the outside, acting like a bull on fire inside.

Impatience with a calm smile.

A moment later a knock came from her front door and she rushed to answer it.

There standing in the rain, a short and chubby, round freckled face with maddening black curly hair framing it, dress in a sweat pants and an over-size tee-shirt with a face of Spongebob and the word _a-dork-able _in red writing below his face.

The person blinks once, her light gray eyes asking a silent question as to why she was here at the person's home.

"There has better be a reason for me to be here, FFC. Gas is not cheap when flying a UFO."

"Yeah, sorry, whatever, get in." FFC said, glad to see a new bud of hers.

She did so, slipping off her small black slip ons by the door, not wanting to dirty FFC's rug cover floors.

"Angel going to be here?" The person asked, taking a seat when FFC did the same.

"No, not today. Later on this week. ArcangelAssassin has some game voids to save and what not."

The other nodded. "Fine, what's the big news you just had to share that it couldn't wait." Ending with her eyes rolling.

"Don't give me that, Writer, you still don't have any back talk after what Susan did."

"No matter how many times I say I'm sorry for that, I'm still going to be on the shit list?"

"Yes. But I still want to know if the offer still stands."

"No way, FFC, I can't." Writer stood from her seat, walking about in the livingroom. "FFC, when you're mad; it's funny. Not Susan. Or Chick. I can't chance that my life will end if I post it."

"So you did write it."

"If the idea is good, it will be written. But posting just so someone's life will end. No thanks."

"But you still wrote it."

"The moment you spoke of it, yes. But I can't. I like where all my limbs and organs are." Stating, and then smirk. "I doubt you want to repaint your home anytime soon. Or have cops around in any way."

"Writer, come on."

"No." Crossing her arms like a child for a final touch, adding puffy cheeks to make a serious.

To which only made the FanFic Critic laughed at this.

Writer only stuck her tongue at her and sat back down, facing away from her, hoping the silent treatment would work.

Not on her life.

"You promise that nothing bad will happen?"

"I can try, Writer, but be ready to run."

Falling back farther into her seat of the couch, having a big sigh pop out as well.

"Somehow that feels better than what NC promise."

"What was that?"

"Can't tell."

"Can't tell or you have no idea what it is?"

"I dislike you very much right now."

FFC held out her hand to Writer. "We have a deal?"

Writer only looks at FFC. "A handshake won't make the fear of her go away."

"For now."

"Fine."

And they shook on it.

"Meg, who are you talking to?"

"Crap!" Writer whisper and jump to the nearest hiding spot, the hall closet, giving the door a light slam shut.

"FanFic Critic?"

The person in question stood from her seat and blocked the closet door in time to see Susan.

"Hey, Sue."

"What are you doing down here so late? You have a show to work on for this weekend." Susan said, with the up most bluntness she had.

Thankfully, she did not hear the airy breathing from behind her cousin.

"Yeah, I was just doing some lines over before going to film. Didn't mean to wake you."

"No that's fine. I was getting up anyway. I wanted a per look of this fanfic story you were going to read anyway."

"Harmless from what I saw so far." FFC answering a little to fast, but then cover with. "But go one right a . . . "

"Is that a UFO outside?" Susan asked, walking over to the window to see the giant sliver floating disk outside. "Surprised no one said any . . . Oh is ArcangelAssassin here and come to show off? Seems like something she would do."

FFC nodded, going along with it. "Yeah, but she got a call to head back to her game base and cheat coded out of here. She would be back to pick up her ride later."

"All right, say cheerio to her for me. I'm going to check on the _master_ _piece_ you're going to read."

"Okay!" Waving her off.

Once seeing Susan was gone, she popped open the closet, grabbed Writer by her shirt, dragging her to the door.

"I have legs you know."

"No time." She said, stopping the other from saying anything more, twisting the door knob and flung Writer out on the front lawn.

"Ow!" Calling out when landing on her butt, standing up and started too rubbed the pain away. "Thanks for the lift!"

"Get! And post the chapter!"

"If she and Chick . . . "

"I have it under control."

In other words, Writer's ass was going to grass. But she still headed to her UFO and took back home, to post the chapter that FFC and so many others wanted to see.

"Maybe they want to see me dead. Can they be any more blunt than?" Writer said, shaking her head, thinking of to do when that chapter becomes posted. "Wonder if I should I ask Grim if I can bunk with him afterwards. We can finally play that game of hangman he's been wanting to play for a while now. Yeah."

Yet the only thing really going on through her head was that Susan and Chick had her on the black list.

A gulping thought that was on the way home.


	3. Critic VS Critic Chap 2 of 2

As true to her word, it happened.

Most likely just got done finish shoveling dirt away from her resting place.

Sent a postcard from hell, saying that she and her _best-est_ buddy Grimmy are chilling down there and will come back when Susan and Chick have willing to accept her deepest forgiveness or that I hit them with the faze-gun enough times to have forgotten all about this.

Writer said in the card the latter of choice are just fine with her. I don't blame her.

Moving onto the video, I can't wait to see it.

Out of nowhere my phone goes off.

"Hello?"

(Hey.)

"Writer, I was just about to play the video."

(Really? Wonderful.)

"We'll talk later."

(Oh yeah, later.)

Hanging up and placing the phone back where it was, heading back to my computer and let the fun start the moment I click the play button.

When the video started, a woman in white, looking rather acrimonious at the camera. Leaning forward on the table below her, almost to the point of jumping out of the screen and about to eat someone.

_Nostalgia Chick: Hello world, ever thought what a mad White Chick looks like when place in a lock room, and have no idea as to how?_

A moment of silence played, as she moved even closer to the point where I'm backing away, almost falling out of my seat.

_Nostalgia Chick: Welcome to my life!_

She took a calm breath, relaxing back in her seat. Using one of her hands to fan to some brushing cool air to her heated-raged face.

_Nostalgia Chick: Man, I had to do that. A good scream is something every . . . "_

A giant anvil came crushing down on her, and the gray slated color covered the screen with the number four and the word ton in white in front to see.

A new angle is shown to be pointing to the ground and flat coin mush of flesh moved out from under the anvil, crab-walking away from it.

_Nostalgia Chick: How? What?_

Before Chick could go on, another anvil came down, a smaller one, about one-third size smaller then the other one.

Having a small screen, no bigger then a side-wade pop can.

"I know who you are." Saying with a smile.

Susan was on the small tv, in a remodel of what looked my room. The wall color was wrong, but oh well, I'll tell Writer later.

Susan wearing all black, her face even more rancorous as Chick. Writer is in big trouble no doubt.

_Susan: Don't think you're alone in this, Chick. I was drag in as well . . . _

Stopping a moment to look as best she could from the small screen.

_Susan: Where are you?_

The moment she asks, a hand pop out from under the anvil, waving about to get Susan to see it.

_Nostalgia Chick: Here._

_Susan: What are you doing down there?_

The last words to say before have the anvil fall backwards, having Chick back on her feet, cracking back that last bone back in place. Brushing off dust off of her.

_Nostalgia Chick: As if you don't know, you British squawk._

Got nothing back when seeing the screen went static, finding out her words reach no one. About ready to try getting out of the deathtrap room, came across something. Picking it up and thinking no harm, fired it.

A portal splattered itself onto the wall and she walked in. Right when another open and Susan jumps out. Firing like mad, when only the sound of clicking was left.

_Susan: Oh come on!_

**3:43/57:42**

Best chance scene ever. Susan is just coming up with ways of ending Chick, but she seems to be able to over those.

A sudden knock came to my door. It couldn't be Susan, I ship her off to England the moment the taping was done. And Chick is dealing with NC at the moment.

Again a knock came again. I let the video play as I went to open the door.

Jumping back to see the Grim Reaper at the door, whose cloth cover head cock to the side in what I guess is confusion and waved his hand in greetings.

"What are you doing here?"

He pointed a cloak cover hand to the video.

"What about it?"

His shoulders slumped, with his head pointing up to the ceiling.

"Grim where is Writer?"

Without her, no way I will ever understand this guy.

Grim made series of hand gestures, it was getting to the point I wished he had a voice.

_(He said that I was coming but got caught in air traffic.)_

A voice called out from outside of my house, moving over to the window and opened it.

That UFO was back and sported a few dents in it.

_(You can forget about me taking you to a con anytime soon!)_

"What happened to your disk?"

_(You know what! Grim, take over.)_ Writer called out and drove the UFO higher into the clouds, before everything went black.


	4. Untimely Fate

In a dark lair, under the lands of Ireland. With candles and old age lamps lighting the area that was known as the mains room, or livingroom.

Grim used his hand to glided over some other candles to light.

"Where are we . . . never mind." FFC stops short when finding out whom she was asking this to.

Grim stop short, moving to large bare wall and place his hand on it. Having it slip apart, to show a common carrier, large enough for planes and tanks.

_(I hope you're happy!)_

FFC moved over to a ledge of where a familiar UFO was, even more banged up then before.

"How that happen?"

_(The trouble you cause.) _Writer called out, rubbing her baby, saying over and over, while rubbing a cloth over any smooth parts of UFO. _(You'll be okay. You'll live. Don't die on me.)_

Grim lead FFC too lower parts where Writer was, mourning over her slight lost.

FFC watch as Grim tilted his head with his shoulders shrugging.

_(Grim, that is not the point.)_ Writer whines to her haunting pal.

Before FFC could ask, Grim showed her to a place to sit and rest her legs. Patting her shoulder as if understanding what she was going to think.

_(I'm not acting like a baby, Grim.)_

He flicks his hand.

_(Says the bone-bag who sleeps with his . . . )_

Grim stomp his foot to stop her rant.

_(Doesn't feel good does . . . )_

"Guys, focus. Please. Will someone tell me how I got here and why?" FFC finally snapping at the two that were acting like some marriage pair of dorks.

Grim started his hand tricks once more, before giving up when FFC didn't show any empathizing to it.

_(Grim, the cards, remember. Use them!)_

He gave her the bird, soon changing the sign to something else, before he shook it side to side.

"What?"

_(You want something to drink or something?)_ Writer said, translating for Grim.

"Sure. Cream soda."

Grim nodded and was about to leave when hearing.

_(I'll take a gin and tonic.)_

He shook his head.

_(What? You . . . )_

Grim ended her words with crossing his hands.

_(Fine. Diet Coke.)_

He nodded at her better choice.

_(With a silly straw.) _Writer called out in a light mumble, still treating her UFO, hoping that the dents will fade in time.

"Umm, Writer, about the whole kidnaping me and . . . "

_(Wasn't my plan.)_

"Still, I like to have a fill in."

_(Susan and Chick were very upset when the bugs were removed. Your cousin did this to my baby) _Writer said, finally able to face FFC and show her—to what Writer thinks is huge—damage.

But looked very mild to passed things that crazy woman could do.

"Writer . . . "

_(This is why requests can go wrong. FFC this a sign for it to never happen again.) _Writer stated, finding a seat on a bench near her ship. _(They looked so mad.) _Taking a deep breath. _(I never meant it to go that far, thanks to me Critic could dead or force to watch Garbage Pail Kids in ten different languages.) _Hiding her face in hands for a moment. _(This is why rules are made.)_

"What are you going on about? This is the Nostalgia Critic you're talking about. He's been through a lot worst. And come up on top."

_(What about you? And Susan? You're family. That's a lot deeper then co-workers.)_

Grim came back with the drinks, handing the closest to FFC and then to Writer. Patting her shoulder.

_(Yeah, it has to be done.)_

"What?"

_(This should have never happen.)_

"Writer your turning into a senseless Mary Sue right now. Clue me in here."

_(You do it, Grim. Make her forget it all.)_

"Wait what?" FFC asks, standing up from her seat, dropping her drink. "Grim. Writer."

She tried to back away from the wacky death keeper, only to feel a cold wall. Her eyes wide in horror. Closing her eyes when seeing Grim rise his hand, having a soft glow blind the seers for a moment for a scythe to be in his grasp.

"Writer!"

_(Never do this again, FFC.)_


	5. I read It

" . . . And this is why self inserts are a frown upon to me. They are pointless. They make the main characters dumb down, waste of a messaging, and out of character. Why can't people just try, a little harder, in making a story . . . "

FanFic Critic stakes a moment to breathe and recollect herself.

" . . . Grammar was just as bad. To the point of almost slitting my throat . . . "

Out of reflex grabs her blade.

" . . . Spelling was made by a preschooler . . . "

She used one hand to fix her hair in a calming matter.

" . . . The plot? Ha! What plot, this was just a ploy to get people to read it . . . "

The breaking point was near.

" . . . And as Nostalgia Critic is with Bat Credit Card. I'm with Blonde-brown . . . "

Her eyes widen, to where you could almost see the fires of hell burn brightly in them.

" . . . I'm the FanFic Critic. I read it. You listen. And I must find this author who made the story called **FanFic Critic Makes Nostalgia Critic Pregnant** . . . "

In a flash holds the blade near the screen.

" . . . You better hope it's not you . . . "

And the screen goes black with the credits playing off with haunting music in the back ground. Leaving one view smiling of a job well done.

_(I love Fanfiction.)_

The person said with a grin, turning off her laptop, and calling it a night and job well done of the day.

The End, For Good Readers.


End file.
